Fudge
by OwlinAutumn
Summary: Any wildlife expert could tell you, signs advertising free fudge are notorious for attracting hungry, wild Henry Andrewses.


Hodges and Greg had their little games. Greg would hide his coffee and David would find it and tell everyone where it was. Hodges would special order gloves with no powder and Sanders would stuff a few of the regular kind that everyone _else_ used in on top. It was a childish game that they had started long ago when they were both convinced they disliked each other and, even after Greg had gone into the field and Hodges had finally warmed up a bit to the lab, they couldn't seem to stop.

So, really, Greg should've been expecting the inevitable when he brought in a secret stash of fudge and then flat out refused David any. Oh, he'd get Sanders back for that. And he'd do better than eating it – he didn't fucking want any anyways, not now that it had been refused him. Oh no.

After it had been left unguarded, Hodges easily found the fudge. It had been hidden behind a box of saltines – really, Greg was terrible at hiding things – and he removed it and set it on the table, placing a pre-made sign on top of it. It said, in very pretty, careful handwriting, 'FREE FUDGE.'

Of course, any wildlife expert could tell you, signs advertising free fudge are notorious for attracting hungry, wild Henry Andrewses.

It was almost like he could smell the fudge from the toxicology lab. Hodges hardly had time to round the corner and watch discretely from his own doorway as Henry, innocent and kind of hungry, wandered into the break room. Of course, Henry had been planning to get his soda from the fridge and find the chips he'd stashed that day the machine had spit out an extra one. But he felt even luckier than he had double-chip day when he saw that sign on top of that small fudge stash … Because Henry Andrews loved fudge.

Glancing around, he gave a slight shrug. He'd take a piece. There wasn't that much there, but he could have a piece and then leave it at that. That piece, a soda and chips later, and he was eyeing the fudge once more. God, he just wanted a few more pieces. As he considered this, he ate a piece … and then another. For some reason, he thought he could hear Hodges chortling down the hall, and as he wondered what he was laughing about, he ate another piece.

Really, there were only four pieces left by the time Henry felt sated, and he looked at the much diminished pile with anguish. Should he leave it? Would anyone else want four measly pieces of fudge? What if there were five people? They'd fight over it, and he'd hate to see that. That devil on his shoulder was whispering for him to take it, and unfortunately, he was winning. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd bundled it back into its plastic wrap and stuck it in his lab coat pocket. Then, a slightly guilty look on his face, he sidled back to the tox lab, giving Hodges a guilty nod as he passed the strangely chuckling man in the hall.

Of course, poor Henry had played right into Hodges' hands. When Greg appeared after a long shift and went looking for his candy fix, David was right there, smirking rather evilly as he watched the CSI become frustrated as he searched where he was sure he'd left it.

"What the … "

"Lose something?"

Greg turned to eye Hodges, his blues narrowing at the lanky lab tech, "What'd you do with it, Hodges?"

"You shouldn't've put fingerprint ink on the sights of my Fourier, Sanders."

"Raccoon eyes suited you," Greg said, his voice dangerously low. "Now what … did you do … with my fudge?"

"Why don't you ask Henry?" David said lightly, looking at his fingernails. "Seems to me he particularly enjoys fudge. Got quite a sweet tooth, actually."

"You gave it to Henry?" Greg was bewildered. "Why didn't you put something in it or something?"

"You didn't want me to have any. So I put it out for everyone to have," Hodges began. He picked up the sign that had been knocked over, unnoticed on the table. "But it seems Henry Andrews is a little greedy when it comes to fudge."

"Well, it's damn good fudge," Greg said softly. He looked a little distracted to Hodges, but he'd got him, and that was really all that mattered to David in the end - one more notch on his card.

"Ball's in your court now, Sanders," David muttered as he walked out, looking a little too happy.

Yes, it was. But not just in David's case. Henry Andrews had eaten all of his fudge. His precious, precious fudge. Oh, he would get Hodges back in time, but the theft and devouring of dear chocolate was not something he could wait upon.

Greg finally found opportunity when he walked into the locker room and found Henry. In fact, he found the tox tech in the act. Henry had promised himself he would wait until the end of the day to allow himself another piece, and it was time, since he had been so good. He stuffed it in his mouth and was licking his fingers when he looked up to see a rather horrified-looking Greg Sanders staring at him.

"Oh … Um. Hi. Greg. Er," Henry felt his face flush and he swallowed his mouthful, feeling very awkward all of a sudden. He'd been caught by a man he'd had a bit of … well, a little crush, anyways, and at eating his slightly stolen fudge, no less. Although the look on Greg's face, it was almost as if he was killing kittens and not just messily eating chocolate. "Er, is … something wrong? Do I have something on my face?" He scrubbed a sleeve at his cheek.

"Henry Andrews. That is _my_ fudge."

Henry almost dropped the package. He suddenly felt rather ill. "But … But … But … But there was a sign on it. It had said … I mean, I thought it was for everyone."

"But you _took_ it all."

"Well, not all. I ate some first!" Oh, yeah, that sounded good. Well done, Henry, he thought, his eyes closing reflexively against his stupid remark.

"You've eaten all of it, Henry!"

"No! No, I haven't," Henry protested, turning to his lab coat hanging in his locker and pulling out the three pieces he'd had left over. "Here! Please, take it. I didn't know it was yours, I swear!"

"No," Greg said, backing away, a rather large pout forming on his face. "You go ahead and keep it. I don't know if I want it any more …"

"Please?" Henry said desperately, grabbing Greg's hand and pressing the soft candy there. "Please, take them? I didn't mean it!" He was more afraid of losing Greg's good will at this point than the sweet chocolate, much as he loved it.

"I know," Greg sighed, still pouting, trying not to flex his hand around the fudge, not wanting to accept it. "But … I dunno, Henry. I don't want it. Just … never mind, okay?" He realized it wasn't Henry's fault, really. It wasn't. Poor kid didn't know Hodges was behind it all. But he didn't want the damn stuff anymore, delicious as it was.

"I'm so sorry, Greg. If I had known," Henry said weakly, ceasing his attempt with the fudge, the package handing limply in his hand at his side, "I wouldn't have touched it. I mean it. What can I do to make it up to you? Please?"

The other man was so close now, Greg could smell the chocolate on his breath, and it made his eyelids flutter. Suddenly, Greg was tempted to see if Henry still had the taste of it on his lips as well. Of course, the begging wasn't helping, as Henry took a step closer, that pleading look in his eye. "You want to make it up to me? But you didn't do anything, Henry … Not on purpose."

"I did," The other man insisted, taking another step closer, hazel eyes wide with desperation. "I did and I'm sorry. Please? What can I do?"

"Henry, stop."

"But it's all my f … "

It was the only way Greg could think of at that moment to shut Henry up. He leaned in, lips slipping over Henry's and effectively cutting him off. He found his suspicions correct, as his tongue slid against those thin lips and then into Henry's surprisingly willing mouth. He still tasted like fudge. Sweet, beautiful, chocolate fudge, and ever so slightly like Henry. Greg found himself pressing Henry up against the nearest locker, kissing him again and again and savoring the sweetness of both the stolen fudge and Henry himself.

When their lips finally broke apart, the only noise Henry felt capable of was a soft whimper, his head dropping back against the locker. Jesus, that had been a lot different than the request he had expected, that was certain. Here he'd thought he'd be out, getting Greg more fudge from some expensive store at the Forum Shops, and instead … they ended up making out. Different but definitely brilliant, that was for sure.

Greg licked his lips, still tasting fudge. It was damn good fudge, and now that he had this … idea of Henry Andrews in his head, maybe that leftover candy would come in handy after all. Leaning down to run his lips against that exposed neck, he murmured, "What're you doing after shift?"

"N … nothing," Henry stuttered, almost whimpering in response. If this was what happened every time he stole fudge from Greg, he'd have to do it more often. "Why?"

Well, something about their kissing and just the situation in general made Greg feel like he could go there. His lips and teeth found a spot behind Henry's brightly lit red ears, nibbling before he whispered, "I'd like you to … come over to my place. Bring the extra fudge."

That just made Henry's knees go absolutely weak, his hands grabbing at Greg's waist for support. He couldn't find more voice than to whimper again, nodding his head instead in reply. His reaction made Greg grin, pulling back, lips trailing across Henry's cheek until he could plant a soft kiss on his lips. Then he pushed away, taking a few steps back, he raised his eyebrows, "Wanna just take my car?"

"Sure," Henry breathed, sagging against the cold metal behind him before regaining his balance. He snagged his things from the bench, slamming his locker door shut and turned to follow Greg out. Greg, who looked terribly amused with himself, Henry noted silently.

The reason Greg was grinning ear to ear was he was pondering when to tell Hodges exactly how badly his plot has backfired.


End file.
